Thursday, 27 February 2014

There is only one day left to the month (I know, I start this post by a dreadful commonplace). At work, the end of the months are always terribly busy, so tomorrow will be no exception. Furthermore, it was busy all week. I often find February more exhausting, partially, I think, because it is the shortest month. We had a particularly nasty month this year in the UK and it is finally starting to look better, so just for this I am glad it will be over. But I usually look at the end of it with a certain happiness and even trepidation. Because February, however short, is rather monotonous. Am I the only one to think it is? This year, I will definitely feel that I have earned it: it is fittingly ending on a Friday. I love when the last day of the month is on the last day of the week. I feel it ends on a good note and a bit of a crescendo.

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

I discovered a moment ago that I missed my blogging anniversary: yesterday marked the sixth year's of Vraie Fiction, which I started with this post. Back in February 2008, I was unemployed, down and out and had nothing better to do than write about whatever I could write about. My situation changed a good bit in the years, at least in some aspects, but I still blog and often still blog about the same things. I found in it a hobby, not always a productive one, but it does feed my creativity, gives it a channel, sometimes obviously it wastes it (or so my mum says, she thinks I should try myself at serious literature). But anyway, even though I missed it by a day, I wanted to mark the sixth year of Vraie Fiction.

Tuesday, 25 February 2014

Well, it came as a surprise, but I have to say it: fame at last. Fellow blogger and Montrealer Kevin Burton Smith added an entry on Pierre Gauthier on his Thrilling Detective website. And if you look at the bottom of the entry, you will see my name (with a typo). I blogged about Omertàbefore, maybe the greatest crime drama that ever came from Québec TV. Pierre Gauthier was its main character and masterfully played by Michel Côté. His character contributed a lot to the development, on TV at least, of crime fiction. So I am glad he is recognized on the entry of Montréal private eyes on Kevin's website, especially now that he is a full fledged private eye in the movie sequel/spinoff, which unfortunately was rather poor. And I am glad I modestly contribute to give more exposure to the series and its hero.

Monday, 24 February 2014

There is something I learned during my last time in Aux Vivres in Montreal, on their teas menu (you can see it here, on the second page): Earl Grey tea is meant to be energizing. I usually have it in the morning at work, and it is true that it makes the difference between the zombie feeling I have in the morning to the state of a a normal healthy person I am in later in the day. I wonder if it did not become my morning tea by instinct. I do find myself more alert after I drank it. Here I drink Twinings, which is maybe the most famous brand of tea, especially when it comes to Earl Grey. But I would love to try David's Tea's Earl Grey and some of its variants. Which reminds me that I will need one day to write a proper post about David's Tea. But until then, I encourage workers to ditch coffee and go for Earl Grey.

Sunday, 23 February 2014

Recently, an Italian friend, former colleague, told me that my Italian was rusty. I replied it was not rusty: it was barely existent. And then it struck me: I haven't worked on my Italian in a long while. I did not read Italian, actively listened to Italian or tried to learn more. So it reminded me that I need to put my head into gears and learn... I still hope that I will one day be fluent in it.

Saturday, 22 February 2014

Here is a little anecdote about one of my favourite beers, Hobgoblin from Wychwood Brewery. I have blogged about it time and again. As I mentioned on this post, I discovered it in Montreal, in a SAQ on St-Denis. I was 19 at the time, it was my first year in Montreal. I bought it the first time I cannot remember when, the second time was around December, I had bought a bottle and with it a ticket for a draft. The price: a Hobgoblin t-shirt. I won the very evening. I still have it in my family's home, among the old clothes I wouldn't wear on a regular basis anymore because they are utterly unwearable, but I still love them for comfort and for sentimental reasons.

The month is almost over already (being the shortest month of the year and all) and I have not until now uploaded a cover of Detective Tales. So it is time to carry on this blogging tradition, with the cover from February 1940. Absolutely brilliant cover, full of very strong images, especially from that time. A hero, private eye (?), is trying to untie the damsel in distress du jour... She is wearing the red dress very common for damsels in distress and is tied upside down to a butcher's cooler door. With two badguys/butchers on each side of the door, one peeking through meat carcasses, the other one lying on the door, both pointing guns at the hero. Eros and Thanatos in all their glory. No pun intended, but this is a very raw image, one wonder if those butchers are not a bit serial killers, maybe more than mobsters. In any case, what a cover!

Friday, 21 February 2014

I literally know one song by Slobberbone, and it is this one. George Pelecanos mentioned it in this article. Pelecanos' crime novels are filled with music as they are filled with atmosphere. He understands perfectly how a song pictures a state of mind and a certain time of the day or the night. "Sometimes you need a song to go with that last two fingers of bourbon poured at the end of the night. This is it." In my case, it is beer, not bourbon, I rarely drink spirits. But this is the song of one drink too many, sore livers, alcohol-induced headache and well, we are Friday night, so here it is.

Thursday, 20 February 2014

Yesterday, as I was walking home, I saw one of the little children of the neighbourhood with his grandparents. The child is still a toddler and was pointing enthusiastically at the bush where Odin used to dwell. I had seen him before, a little German boy whose English is still limited. His father is a friend of Odin's former owners and the boy loved my feline friend, although Odin did not like him much. Odin was not downright hostile to children, in fact I had seen him quite sociable with children, but this one, shouting's very enthusiastically "Homer!" every time he saw Odin (for that was the name his owners gave him), got him quite weary. So anyway, the toddler was there, pointing at the bush, and his grandparents told me that he was "looking for the black cat". So I had to tell them that the black cat was dead. The boy did not seem to understand when they told him, he was happy as ever and switched his attention to something else.

This chance encounter made me feel bittersweet. It reminds me that Odin is gone. But he is very much alive in this child's mind. I often stop by the bush myself, looking for him. I think the boy could probably see Odin in the shadows. I guess it is fitting that a black cat is now a bit of a ghost.

Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Because of the recent and ongoing flooding, I am forced to take an earlier train to go to work. it is the only way to avoid getting late from work. It has been going on for about a week now. I wake up earlier, I walk to the train station, running a bit sometimes to be sure I don't miss it, then I sit down in an almost empty train. It has advantages however. Because I arrive at work earlier, I can leave work earlier if I do the hours, so I have shorter lunch breaks. Of course, the trains do not always run on time. But then I can read more, on the journey to and from work and at home, when there are still daylights outside. And there is also the Thames river. Flooded, but beautiful to behold all the same. I am lucky to be able to see the beast without suffering from it. That said, I will be glad when things turn back to normal.

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

I learned something today through Facebook: today, 18th of February, is the birthday of George Pelecanos, who is now 57. Pelecanos is not my favourite writer, but he is my favourite crime writer, since I read Right as Rain back in 2006. Right now I am reading The Night Gardener, which is quite fitting. Pelecanos is of course of Greek origins and I always thought he wrote Greek tragedies, or Greek epic, set in contemporary USA. His stories are hard, merciless, very dark, yet there is genuine humanism in it and a love for his characters, however flawed, which makes reading him such a pleasant experience. So happy birthday to the best of the best.

Monday, 17 February 2014

I did not watch the whole BAFTA ceremony yesterday, but I did watch a bit. In fact, I watched just enough, by this I mean that I managed to see what I wanted to see: Cate Blanchett winning best actress for her role in Blue Jasmine. Which I haven't seen yet. Shame on me. I will correct this soon. I hope she wins the Oscar, she deserves it, if only for not getting it as she should have had in Elizabeth. Anyway, I love to see her winning, always great to see her incredible acting mastery recognized. And I know I sound like a groupie. But I indulge myself because I love the art that is acting and Cate Blanchett masters it.

Sunday, 16 February 2014

I recently answered some silly questionaire/quiz about which character of Game of ThronesI am. I have watched eagerly the TV series (and I am now up to date in the episodes) and I have even started reading the books. I am not a die hard fan or anything even approaching it, but I enjoy the stories and universe of George R.R. Martin and I am hooked enough. I have a confession to make and I hope any fan reading this does not get angry: so far I prefer the series to the books, on the whole. I do not find Martin that great of a writer and I find the quality of the acting on the show to give some depth and intelligence to Game of Thrones. Anyway, as my readership knows, my favourite family is House Stark. So I was not entirely surprised that according to this questionnaire, I am Arya Stark, played by Maisie Williams. Well, it was either her or Robb Stark. But I admired Arya from earlier on than Robb. I found it a bit strange that I am a girl in this fantasy universe, but hey, it was only one silly questionnaire, about a fictitious character in a fictitious world. I do not know if I am all that much like Arya, I am more of an intellectual than her and not nearly as physically active, but I admired her. A tomboy lost in a man's world (and a nasty man's nasty world at that), a loner and an underdog, who goes through a hellish time with courage and resourcefulness, she is just a lovable character, a good guy (well, a good gal) without being soppy.

Yesterday, it was sunny. Today, it is still sunny. After more than two weeks of ongoing rain and storm, of daily Apocalypse, the weekend feels and looks quiet. Yet tomorrow, it will be stormy again. Gloom and doom. I know I blog about the weather a lot, but it is because I have been obsessing about it, just like everybody else here. It seems to be the only thing people talk about, I mean more than usual. So yes, I appreciate being able to see the sun again, even though I know it only means we are in the eye of the storm.

Saturday, 15 February 2014

I did not blog about Odin for some time, nearly a month in fact, and I wished to do it tonight. I was looking at his pictures recently (I often do actually) and it struck me that I do not have many photos left of him that are unpublished. And I cannot take any anymore, and, more importantly, that since his tragic death, I cannot live memories of Odin anymore. Fate had put an end to the Odin saga, like it does every saga, I guess. And this makes me very sad. Yet, I still have memories of Odin which I wanted to share. Enough to write at least one post.

I took this picture as I was packing for my holiday in Montreal, back in October last year. He seemed, and was pretty indifferent to my departure, After I had put a few clothes in my bag, I was sitting down in the sofa and he just stared at me in silence. he was also indifferent when I got back. All he wanted to do was to spend time outside. So he did not seem to have missed me. Yet after he spent a few hours outside, when I took a nap to recover from a sleepless night traveling, he napped at my feet. Sometimes you are not conscious of your own bliss. Something else I wanted to write about him is his thing with catnip. He was given catnip at night so he would not meow endlessly asking to go out. Nights in were safer than nights out. So Odin got into catnip, but quickly grew out of it, his period of drugged bliss getting shorter and shorter every time... And then he wanted to go out again. Nevertheless, I bought more catnip. A woman at the till asked me what was catnip exactly, I said it was like speedball for cats. She asked what speedball was and I answered: "Heroin and cocaine mixture, very potent." I think it deserves to be a great unknown line. I mentioned Odin meowing, and I wanted to end this post talking about it. His former owners told that he was a pretty silent cat. I always found it strange, because he was meowing the moment I met him. He was also very vocal when he wanted to be in, or go out, or when he wanted attention, or food, or cuddles. He had become, as they say, a different cat.

Friday, 14 February 2014

The treasures one can find sometimes reading the news, or looking into old stuff. I have learned on BBC News that they found out Ernest Hemingway's favourite burger recipe. With his own handwriting on it. It gives an interesting sight of Hemingway's mind and (especially) stomach. And I am curious about the recipe itself: it has capers in it and I love capers. A strange, but very tempting thing to add to a burger recipe. There are many things in it I have no idea what it is and wonder if I could find it anywhere: India relish, Spice Islands Beau Monde Seasoning, Spice Islands Mei Yen Powder, what have you. All the same, I'd love to try it, or something close to it. Just for kicks and because it is Hemingway's favourite burger recipe. Come to think of it, while I love burgers, I have no specific favourite recipe.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

I took this picture in a newsagent in Montreal, on the Plateau Mont-Royal. Even the newsagents have a decent choice of books, at least of crime fiction. I wouldn't take a picture of bookshelves or, in that case, of a table covered of books for nothing, there is something that struck me the moment I look at this one, it was even a bit of an epiphany. Do you see it? It is quite obvious. The answer in the next paragraph (no cheating). One clue: I took this picture in Montreal.

You see it? There's a book titled Londres Noir, Rome Noir, but there is no Montréal Noir. No Montréal Noir, in Montreal, in a newsagent, with a decent choice of crime books, in a city that has a history of crime that would deserve some recognition. I have not seen any Montréal Noir from Folio Policier, I don't think they even bothered. And I find this a little bit tragic.

With all the flooding drama these days, I missed an important day to commemorate yesterday: Darwin Day, the birthday of Charles Darwin. Say what you will about my country of adoption, about how backwards some of its institutions are (yes I am thinking about this one), this country remains in many ways the birthplace of modernity and progress, and we owe it a lot to Darwin. He did not only revolutionize science, but the way mankind looks at itself. It is a shameful thing that some schools here and elsewhere in the Western world still teach creationism. But anyway, every time I see his face on a £10 bill, I remember why I admire England.

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

I know I am blogging often about the current flooding in England, but we are living here history, as the amount of rain falling has surpassed any records. Some may even say that we are living the end of history: there is a prayer assembly tonight in a local church. I will not be attending. Nevertheless, the situation is dramatic: the town where I live is in by the abyss, literally. Its most important park has been closed because flooded entirely. And I thought there was lots of water a month ago. The cemetery by the church, which you can see on this picture, is boarding the Thames and some of its long time residents already have their feet wet, if not more. On the other side of the river, you can see the most picturesque hotel of the town also being invaded by water.

And well, there are the train lines, all messed up.You cannot trust National Rail: their website is never up to date with the situation on the ground, so to speak. Yesterday, as the train was getting late, I called my manager to tell him not to expect me too soon. He said: "Don't tell me you are going to work swimming today." (By the way, this is a new great unknown line). In the end, I was driven to work by the husband of a fellow commuter, good Samaritan. I told him I owe him a beer. The roads were quite bad, very busy, very slow to move. And there was water everywhere on the side of the roads. I took the train early this morning. It is amazing how the flooding changed commuting life and our environment. There is water by the tracks, I could see the Thames closer, and spreading over the other side of the tracks, on pastures where cows and horses were splashing. I couldn't help but find this beautiful, however terrifying. Yet I know that for many people, these days are tragic.

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

I haven't uploaded a song in a little while. I have decided to upload Heroin by The Velvet Underground. I barely ever listened to their music, but I love this song. Not that I ever did heroin, mind you. But I love to listen to it when I feel melancholic. It was the song I listened to when the airplane was taking off, leaving Montreal. It was quite an experience.The menlancholia mixed with homesickness, in a way, is an emotional speedball. Now I will associate this song to home. And on a last, more cheerful note, you don't need drugs when you have music. Good music, that is.

Monday, 10 February 2014

This morning, the train to go to work was delayed for about twenty minutes because of the rain, which filled the Thames so much that it is flooding everywhere, and way too close to the rails. Commuting has become a nightmare for many, for me it was only a minor irritation as I only got to work a few minutes late. On a Monday, when works is piling up in your absence, it is certainly not pleasant. But I saw the other commuters leaving the train as I was entering it, a massive bunch of people looking tired and worn out like evacuees from a region struck with a guerrilla. I had learned later that the previous stations had been closed for some time. So I can count myself lucky, my Monday was not nearly as bad as theirs. Like I said to my colleagues: "At least I haven't drowned yet." This can count, I think, as a new great unknown line.

Sunday, 9 February 2014

Here is another episode of my last time in Québec, I hope nobody minds. During the time of my stay in my parents' house in Chicoutimi, my godson and his family came see us for a Sunday roast. As the roast beef was cooking (for it was what we were having), his sister went to my bedroom's desk do her homework and my godson asked for some colour crayons to colour a drawing he had made. We couldn't find crayons, but looking everywhere we found some old toys and games in a cupboard, including these lead figures of Dungeons & Dragons stock characters and The Lord of the Rings. Back during my geeky teenage, we were using them as... Well, as nothing really. We just had them on display during the games, or on the mantelpiece, for fun. I had started buying them to my bros as Christmas presents, first trying to find figures resembling their characters, then more stuff to expand the collection. They really got into it. It served no purpose but to look nice, like some visual aid to build some kind of atmosphere.

And when I found them, in a box above an old, old, old puzzle box my parents must have given me when I was four, my godson got fascinated by them. He found them "super cool". Which is his expression for lots of things he gets into: Viking mythology, Harrods' figures of British guards, a book on whales he sees on the shelves, etc. But those figures, they were coolness made lead. He asked me one by one what they were, we took them all out of their box and placed them on the puzzle's box and I had to explain what each one was: this is a wizard, this is a ranger, this is a priest, this is a druid, this is a knight with a morningstar as a weapon, this is an ogre mage, this is a blue dragon (which blows lightnings, as any D&Dr gamer knows), this is a lich, this is a griffon, and so on. Of course, I also had to explain what the character or the monster could do and find the owner of every limb and weapon that had been broken. When it was all done, he asked if we should move everything back in the box. I said I would do it later, because I wanted to take a picture of the improvised display. His father told me that my godson is hyperactive, but when he gets his mind into something he remains quiet and focused. It is very true, as I could witness it then. I wonder if he will one day follow his geeky godfather and one day play Dungeons & Dragons. In any case, I am very glad he finds lead figures so darn cool.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

This green jumper is a bit less than fifteen years old. Mum bought it to me for Christmas. It is old, worn out, has been repaired a number of times and of course it is out of fashion. All the same, every time I go home, where it now stays, I wear it. It still fits me, for one and I find it warm and comfortable. In fact, it is maybe the most comfortable jumper I ever wore. Oh and I love wearing green clothes, for some reason. This jumper is perfect for cold autumn and winter days. Sometimes I am tempted to bring it back with me, but I find it better to lay there on the shelves in my old bedroom, the witness of a past I can revisit every time I go home. And this is also part of the comfort it gives me. The best clothes are the ones that are not only clothes.

Friday, 7 February 2014

As it is now a tradition on Vraie Fiction, a tradition that is irregularly observed, but still, I am plugging a restaurant and/or a pub and/or a dish in said restaurant/pub. This is the dish in question, basically a club sandwich, but with a twist: the bacon has been replaced by mango and avocado. Accompanied with chips and a green salad, to make it even (!) healthier. I ordered back in October, in Le Cornichon, a restaurant in the heart of the Plateau Mont-Royal, corner Chambord and Mont-Royal. Judging by the very few reviews on TripAdvisor and my own memory, it's a very young one.

Le Cornichon may not serve the most original or the best food in Montreal, or indeed on the Plateau, but it serves honest, quality food and when you are hungry, it is all that matters. The staff is young and very nice. I fear it may not live very long: like in other restaurants of Mont-Royal Avenue, especially on corners, I have seen the ones on the corner of Chambord disappear quickly. It was Les Prés when I first arrived in Montreal, then something else, then it changed to Le Cornichon (I think). At the 940, it was worse: they changed every other year or so, until it became a SAQ. But I digress. Le Cornichon is not the Montreal institution the Binerie Mont-Royal is, but I had a pleasant experience each time I ate there and, as I went there for my last two trips to my city, it must have done something to me. So, about this club sandwich. It tastes lovely, it is filling, when you are hungry it is just what you need (you got to love the portions of Montreal's meals), but you don't have the impression that you are eating junk food too much. A generous portion of salad and the avocado and mango can go a long way. If you think about it, most of what's on the plate is vegetarian. It is called "club des îles", freely translated it would be "island club sandwich". I don't know if it is an invention of the restaurant, you tell me if you have seen anything similar. If it is, then Le Cornichon is even original. Either way, try it.

Thursday, 6 February 2014

Sometimes, the news take a turn to the bizarre and the improbable: a crocodile has been seen beneath a bridge in Bristol. There even has been a second sighting. I am, to say the least, skeptical. A snake, I would find this plausible, a small saurian, even. But a six foot crocodile? This sounds highly unlikely. So until there is proper evidence shown, I think we have here the beginning of an urban legend, like the one about the sewer alligators of New York, which fascinated me as a child. But this is one of those urban legends I wished was true, just because it is so darn outrageous and because a croc on the loose in England is kind of cool.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

I have recently published two pictures, one last Sunday and one about a month ago, showing the effects the recent heavy rains had on a nearby park, half drowned in the River Thames, or the rain itself. Well, it has not calmed down at all: last night I was woken up by the pouring rain and the strong wind. Going to work today, the train was late probably because of the weather, and all the way to work I could see the water from the river covering gardens and sometimes almost reaching the railway. It poured some more during the day. And it seems that more storms are coming in the following days. The news are filled with weather warnings. So there is no rest for the wicked or the virtuous. I feel that live is now a daily Apocalypse.I have been through a flood before and I am lucky enough to live far away from the water this time again, so take this one smoothly. That said, I understand that for many, this time is really apocalyptic.

Tuesday, 4 February 2014

I saw my godson and his family twice during my last visit to Québec: once in their place, once at my parent's place for dinner. He asked me then to read him the story of Sigurd and the dragon I had read a little more than a year ago at Christmas. I was impressed that he remembered it, remembered not finishing it and that he was eager to know the rest. Unfortunately, as my godson had forgotten parts of it, we had to start from the beginning again and we could not finish it... again. All the same, he enjoyed himself tremendously, like he always does. He seems fascinated by all things legendary. He is slowly getting, thanks to me, a modicum of knowledge in Norse mythology. Moral of the story: I may not teach my godson anything about the Catholic faith as in theory I should, but I am still the best godfather (as he said himself) because I help him develop his imagination and he learns plenty about the far more interesting Viking mythology.

Monday, 3 February 2014

I have mentioned recently that I was pleasantly surprised, during my last trip to Montreal, to see that the bookshops on the Plateau appeared to he striving. Not only second-hand bookshops, which always did very well in this neighborhood, but also, or at least it seems, other independent bookshops selling "new" books, and not only bestsellers, but lesser known treasures and forgotten classics of all genres. I had visited Le port de tête before, but only truly discovered it this time. I did not visit Olivieri, something I kept promising myself to do, but I feel less ashamed as I now have a proper independent bookshop to go to. And it is exclusively a bookshop, it is not also a bistro or a café, it sells books, period. This inspired me to start looking for independent places like Le port de tête on this side of the pond.

Sunday, 2 February 2014

This picture was taken three weeks ago, when the rain had poured so much the Thames had overflown over the local park and huge puddles that looked like lakes or swamps. The water you can see is not from the river, it is right in the middle of the park. You see the church tower in the background. I have not much to write about this picture, in fact I only wanted to upload it because I found it beautiful and so very English.

Saturday, 1 February 2014

What you can see on the picture at your left is the best falafel in Montreal, according to its maker, La Panthère Verte/The Green Panther, a new small chain of vegan and bio restaurants in Montreal. Because it was boasting to prepare the best falafel in town, I had to try it. It was accompanied by a soup (I know, it is at the center of the picture) that had curry in it and tasted just as delicious as the falafel. I am no specialist of vegan food or falafels, but tasting it, thought it tasted pretty much as the best falafel would taste. It has cabbage, sauerkraut, pickles and of course falafel balls, I think it is the pickles and sauerkraut that gives it this flavor. It tasted good and I did not regret one moment not having meat. And the staff is very friendly. I will most definitely visit it again on my next time in Montreal.

While I was in one of the many bookshops of Montreal (this one to be precise), I found Last Night in Montreal by Emily St. John Mandel. A crime fiction novel, set in Montreal, with a beautiful book cover as well... Yet I didn't buy it. Because the novel was the translated version published by Rivages. I already have issues with translated novels, but having Montreal take the French accent and vocabulary through a translation in French, it is too much for me. So I have decided to set myself to buy it here in the original language. With a title like this one, it speaks to me on so many levels. And it will be the second crime fiction novel set in Montreal I own. My last trip home has been rich in discoveries.